hundred frankës, for a week or twy, For certain beastës that I mustë buy, To storë with a placë that is ours (God help me so, I would that it were yours); I shall not failë surely of my day, Not for a thousand francs, a milë way. But let this thing be secret, I you pray; For yet tonight these beastës must I buy. And fare now well, mine owen cousin dear; Grand mercy of your cost and of your cheer.”
This noble merchant gentilly anon Answér’d and said, “O cousin mine, Dan John, Now sickerly this is a small request: My gold is yourës, when that it you lest, And not only my gold, but my chaffare; Take what you list, God shieldë that ye spare. But one thing is, ye know it well enow Of chapmen, that their money is their plough. We may creancë while we have a name, But goldless for to be it is no game. Pay it again when it lies in your ease; After my might full fain would I you please.”
These hundred frankës set he forth anon, And privily he took them to Dan John; No wight in all this world wist of this loan, Saving the merchant and Dan John alone. They drink, and speak, and roam a while, and play,